by Alec, Joyce
The duchess smiled up at her husband before he took his leave, with Percy making his way to the side of the room in search of something to eat.
“You will find us in the drawing room, Lord Wetherby, when you have finished breaking your fast.”
Percy turned to see Lady Frederica and the duchess moving away from the table. Lady Frederica bore no smile on her face, although, at the very least, there appeared to be no anger or irritation settled there.
“But of course,” he murmured, bowing. “I quite understand.”
“You are more than welcome to join us,” the duchess continued as Percy listened quietly. “Or, if you should wish for solitude, then the library or the parlor is available to you. We shall not be insulted if you choose the latter, so pray, feel no obligation.”
Percy bowed low. “I thank you for your generosity, Your Grace,” he replied as a small smile graced the duchess’ lips. “I will, I think, find a quiet place to reflect and consider, in the hope that something will return to me.”
“A very wise idea,” Lady Frederica remarked, making it quite plain that she did not wish for his company, for her lips bore no smile as the duchess’ did and, indeed, her eyes were sharp and cold. “I do hope that you will find some answers, Lord Wetherby.”
“As do I, Lady Frederica,” Percy replied fervently. “As do I.”
5
Had the ton known of what had occurred with Lord Wetherby, then surely all of London would be abuzz with the news. Gossip would be threading its way through the streets of London, everyone would be whispering of it, and Lord Wetherby himself would not have any opportunity to so much as lift his head in public.
However, that had not occurred, Frederica considered as she walked alongside the duchess. Lord Wetherby had spoken to his driver at length but nothing of importance had been revealed. The driver had stated that, for whatever reason, Lord Wetherby had flung himself out of the carriage and had told the driver to return home before hurrying off into the night. That was all that had been said, and the little that had been given to them by way of explanation was, Frederica thought, more than a little frustrating. The duke had returned from speaking with Lord Merseyside later that same day but had been entirely unable to confirm what Frederica had always believed—that Lord Wetherby had again imbibed far too much and, as such, had found himself in a drunken state. Lord Merseyside had apparently told the duke that he had bid Lord Wetherby farewell and that he had thought him fatigued, certainly, and that he might have had a few glasses of brandy but that he had not been foxed. Thus, Frederica had been forced to admit—only to herself, of course—that Lord Wetherby had not been as she had believed. Not that she had any intention of apologizing to the gentleman, however, for he had done more than enough already and, had he not been discovered, might have caused both her and the duke’s name a good deal of damage.
“You are very quiet this afternoon.”
Frederica looked toward the duchess as they walked quietly through St. James’ Park. “I am thinking,” she said by way of explanation. “And yes, I am thinking of Lord Wetherby. It seems very strange indeed to have discovered him so and for him to have so little recollection about why he was present.”
“I would agree,” the duchess replied, one shoulder lifting gently. “But we cannot know the truth of the matter and Lord Merseyside has made it clear that Lord Wetherby was not as we suspected him.”
Frederica let out a long sigh, finding her heart still heavy despite the beauty of the day and the many acquaintances that they had already stopped to greet.
“You would like to know the truth, however,” the duchess continued, a note of teasing in her voice. “I know that you are always inclined to such considerations, my dear, but in this regard, I do believe that it is best to simply leave things as they are.”
“Perhaps,” Frederica replied, not wanting to give up her curiosity yet, or to forget her many, many questions. “It is all so very strange, I must admit.”
The duchess sighed. “We do not need any further rumors haunting us,” she said, reminding Frederica of the difficult time the duchess had endured the previous Season. “I know just how trying they can be, and I would not like the same for you, my dear.”
Frederica nodded but said nothing, aware of what the duchess was saying, and how she clearly wanted to protect her, but still finding a great, almost inexplicable urge to discover the truth.
“You should be focusing solely on acquainting yourself with the beau monde and enjoying the Season,” the duchess continued firmly. “There are many gentlemen who will seek to call on you, I know, and I am certain you will be very glad of their company soon enough.” She smiled at Frederica, who returned it. “Once you have gentlemen calling on you, once you are caught up in the whirlwind of balls and the like, I am sure you will have every cause to forget Lord Wetherby entirely.”
Biting her lip, Frederica tried to force herself to remain silent but found she could not. The words seemed to burst from her, pushing her forward as she spoke.
“Do you accept his explanation?” she asked as the duchess looked back at her, startled. “That he was not in his cups, as he is so determined to prove?”
The duchess hesitated. “I do not know,” she said quietly, looking away from Frederica for a few moments as she thought. “That does seem to be the most reasonable explanation, but Lord Merseyside said that he did not believe him to be so. And Lord Wetherby did seem quite certain that he had not drunk more than he ought, clearly wishing to make a better impression than he had done before.”
Frederica twisted her lips, a line forming between her brows as she attempted to work out just what else might have aided Lord Wetherby’s lack of memory.
“Perhaps he is lying,” she suggested as the duchess’ brow lifted. “Mayhap he does know all too well what he was doing in the duke’s townhouse and simply does not want to say.” As the idea grew all the more, Frederica found herself becoming a little more excited. “Yes, that may be it. He did not mean to fall asleep but accidentally did so and, thereafter, had no other excuse than to say that he could not recall what had occurred.”
The duchess let out a long sigh, making Frederica all too aware that she was not particularly pleased about having to discuss matters such as this. “Frederica,” she said sternly, “what possible motivation could Lord Wetherby have had to encourage him to do such a thing? He had already shamed himself greatly in front of us both and sneaking into the duke’s house for some reason would only have increased that embarrassment.” She shook her head. “No, I cannot think that he is lying. There is no motivation for him to do so.”
Try as she might, Frederica could not cling onto the idea any longer, feeling it slip away from her like sand running through her fingers. The duchess was quite correct. There was no reason for Lord Wetherby to do such a thing, and the thought that had only a moment ago seemed so wonderful now began to slip away.
“You must forget about Lord Wetherby,” the duchess insisted as they came across a small group of acquaintances. “It is not worth your time to think of the matter so. Leave it be, Frederica, for your own sake.”
There was no time for Frederica to respond, for the group of ladies and gentlemen who had congregated together on the path now turned toward them both, clearly eager to have them join their conversation. Frederica greeted them all in turn and allowed herself to be drawn into the group, doing her utmost to push all thought of Lord Wetherby from her mind but finding that he still lingered there, regardless.
“I see that you are well acquainted with Lord Greenford,” one of the young ladies said, her eyes twinkling as Frederica looked back at her steadily, wondering what the remark might mean. “He is an exceptional gentleman.”
“I do not know him particularly well,” Frederica replied quickly. “We have only recently been introduced.”
“That is not what I have heard,” said another, laughing just a little as Frederica tried her best to remain outwardly calm. “Lord Greenfo
rd is very keen to call upon you, Lady Frederica. I do hope you will welcome him.”
Frederica felt a ripple of dislike run through her frame as she looked steadily back at Miss Templeton, whose mother was saying nothing to her daughter when, in Frederica’s opinion, she ought to be quietly reminding her daughter not to be impertinent in making such comments.
“I am not particularly well acquainted with him, as I have said,” she replied, seeing how the duchess frowned at Miss Templeton, who, upon seeing the expression on her face, immediately blushed furiously. “And as for whether I will either continue or develop such an acquaintance is entirely up to myself, Miss Templeton.”
Silence ran around the group at Frederica’s words, but she did not care. The young lady had been very foolish to make any sort of remark, and Frederica had never been shy when it came to speaking as openly as was permitted. In her opinion, it was best to put even the smallest hint of a rumor to bed before it grew and spread across society and, just as she had done here, Frederica felt quite justified in her behavior. Having seen just how poorly society had treated the duchess before she had wed because of rumors that were being spread about her had reminded Frederica of just how cruel the ton could be—and she was not about to permit whispers to be spread about her either.
“You are also acquainted with Lord Wetherby, I believe,” said another young lady, changing the subject entirely. “I have not seen him these last two evenings, however.” A slightly disappointed look came into her eyes. “I do hope he has not returned home.”
“Why ever should he do such a thing?” another lady asked, dismissing the question with a laugh. “He is always in London for the Season and remains here for as long as he can.”
Frederica listened with interest, allowing the conversation to flow around her without feeling any sort of need to engage with it.
“Do you think this will be the year that he will find himself a bride?” asked another, sounding a little wistful as she spoke. “I do hope so.”
“I doubt it,” came the reply. “He is always here solely to enjoy the Season and never seems to have any interest in such a thing as matrimony.”
A small sigh escaped from one or two of the ladies whilst Frederica watched on quietly. She was learning more about Lord Wetherby’s character simply by listening and allowing others to speak instead of engaging him in conversation herself. It seemed that he was as she had suspected—all too eager to further his own status and place in society rather than consider what he ought: matrimony and producing an heir. No doubt his enjoyment of society was precisely the reason that he drank to excess and now made such a fool of himself. In her own mind, Frederica was now quite convinced that, despite his protestations, Lord Wetherby had been in his cups the night he had come into the duke’s house uninvited. There really was no other explanation.
“Lady Frederica?”
She jolted in surprise, realizing that she had become quite lost in thought and therefore had not been paying any attention to the conversation. “Yes?”
Lord Rainer grinned and cleared his throat. “I was merely wondering, Lady Frederica, whether or not you intend to dance at my ball this evening,” he asked as Frederica smiled. “I am very pleased that you accepted the invitation, I must say, although I will now hope that you will be willing to stand up with me at one point in the evening.”
“I shall be very glad to indeed,” Frederica replied, quietly thinking to herself that Lord Rainer was a very amiable gentleman. “I thank you for considering me, Lord Rainer.”
“Lord Rainer considers everybody,” said another as Lord Rainer dropped his head, giving the impression of deep embarrassment. “You need not hide your face so, Lord Rainer, everyone knows your character to be so.”
Frederica smiled to herself as the gentleman brushed aside the compliment once more, thinking that the duchess was quite correct in her guiding words. It was better for Frederica to consider her acquaintances and those around her at present, rather than let her thoughts return to Lord Wetherby over and over again. Here was Lord Rainer, who, whilst only a viscount, appeared to have a very charming manner. He clearly wanted to dance with her at the ball this evening, and Frederica had no reason to refuse him. To give her time and her thoughts to Lord Wetherby was ridiculous. She would have to make an effort to quell her curiosity and fling aside her unanswered questions if she was to make any progress in the Season this year. Had she not told the duchess that she wanted to make certain to find a suitable gentleman this Season? If she continued on as she was at present, lost in thought about Lord Wetherby, then surely that would only detract from her search.
“I look forward to this evening, Lord Rainer,” she said as he smiled at her. “I am sure it will be a most enjoyable evening indeed.”
* * *
The ball was, as Frederica had expected, an excellent affair. The orchestra played marvelously well, the food and refreshments were of a higher standard than she had expected, and the company was altogether wonderful. Frederica had spent the evening talking, laughing, and dancing with a good many acquaintances and had even been introduced to a few more. Any time she caught herself looking for Lord Wetherby, she would force her eyes away from the crowded room and look instead into the face of whoever was by her side, whether that was the duchess or another acquaintance. And should her thoughts turn to him, Frederica made certain to think of something entirely different almost at once, simply so that she would not permit him to linger there. It took something of an effort, certainly, but Frederica was quite determined to continue doing so.
“Ah, Lady Frederica.”
She turned, smiling, her eyes alighting upon Lord Greenford.
“Good evening, Lord Greenford,” she replied, bobbing a quick curtsy. “Have you been enjoying the ball this evening?”
“Very much,” he said, bowing low as the duchess came to join them. “Might I enquire as to whether or not your dance card is available for me to peruse?” His eyes twinkled. “I am a little tardy this evening and fear now that I have lost my opportunity.”
Frederica laughed and slipped it from her wrist, trying her best to ignore the memory of those two young ladies talking about Lord Greenford in such eager terms. “I have three remaining,” she replied as Lord Greenford took it from her with a murmur of thanks. “Thank you, Lord Greenford. You are very kind.”
“Not at all,” he replied, putting his name in not one but two spaces. “I look forward to dancing with you this evening.”
Frederica smiled and took the card from him, thanking him as she did so. They talked for a few minutes longer before Lord Greenford begged to be excused, stating that he had arranged to dance the country dance with Lady Diane.
“Then I suggest you find her,” Frederica laughed, and he inclined his head, grinning as he did so. “For the room is very large indeed and the dance will soon begin.”
Both she and the duchess watched Lord Greenford walk away, with Frederica tilting her head just a little as she observed him. Lord Greenford dressed in a somewhat flamboyant manner—although it could hardly be said to be exaggerated—but Frederica considered that he did have an excellent character.
“Might I ask, Frederica,” the duchess began, turning so that she now stood directly in front of Frederica, “whether Lord Greenford is someone you might consider?”
Frederica laughed, her heart squeezing gently. “I do not think so, Louisa,” she replied as the duchess listened carefully. “I have said that I wish very much to find a gentleman for whom I have an affection. I can never have such an affection for Lord Greenford, even though he is a remarkably kind gentleman.”
“No?” the duchess asked softly, and Frederica shook her head. “You feel nothing for him?”
“Nothing other than a gratitude for his friendship,” Frederica replied truthfully. “That is not enough, I fear.”
“Not if you are seeking something a good deal more intimate,” the duchess conceded. “I do hope you will forgive me for asking you such a
thing, Frederica.”
Frederica reached out and pressed the duchess’ hand. “I am glad that you feel able to do so,” she answered honestly. “We have a very dear friendship, you and I, and there should be that openness between us.”
The duchess smiled. “Good. I am glad.”
“Lady Frederica?”
Her smile still lingering, Frederica turned her head only to see the somewhat shamefaced Lord Wetherby standing there, only just rising from his bow. Her heart slammed into her chest in shock and it took her a moment to curtsy, blinking rapidly as she did so. It had been two days since she had last seen Lord Wetherby, two days since he had appeared in her uncle’s townhouse without explanation and then departed in his own carriage without speaking to her further.
“Good evening, Lord Wetherby,” she managed to say, surprised that he had come to seek her out.
“Good evening,” he said, before turning to the duchess. “Good evening, Your Grace.”
“Good evening,” came the gentle reply. “And how are you, Lord Wetherby?”
A kindness was present in the duchess’ voice that was entirely absent from Frederica’s heart, and Frederica felt a sharp sting of guilt at her lack of compassion.
“I am well,” he replied, although his expression remained somewhat grave, his eyes no longer holding any sort of brightness and his brow lined. “I have come, Lady Frederica, to ask if I might be permitted to dance with you this evening?” His brows knotted together, and he dropped his gaze, spreading his hands as he did so. “I know that I have no right to ask you such a thing, given that I behaved so foolishly the last time I sought a dance from you, but I hope that, on this occasion, I might prove to you that I am not the gentleman you must surely believe me to be.” His eyes lifted to hers, his hands still spread. “If you wish to refuse me, then I will, of course, understand.”
Frederica swallowed hard, glancing at the duchess but seeing the tiny shrug that was returned to her. It was Frederica’s decision and remained solely hers. She could lie, she thought, pretend that she had no dances remaining and therefore was unable to offer him her dance card despite his very kind offer—but the thought of being so false left a bitter taste in her mouth. Lord Wetherby was looking back at her steadily now, clearly waiting for her to say something, to agree or disagree, to accept or refuse.